


sins of the flesh

by Kerosenecoffee



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (I guess?) - Freeform, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Tattoos, aziraphale is soft™️, crowley is dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 14:44:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19428118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerosenecoffee/pseuds/Kerosenecoffee
Summary: Crowley has been getting tattoos since before Jesus was conceived. To date, none of them have an actual meaning.





	sins of the flesh

**Author's Note:**

> it is literally 4am

Having ink stabbed repeatedly under layers of your skin wasn’t an idea Aziraphale found particularly attractive. He never really liked the thought of things being permanent, he had barely changed his hair style in his 6000 years on earth, or the pain of the process. In truth, just imagining microscopic needles darting in and out of his untainted skin gave him chills and was enough to make him squirm. 

Crowley, on the other hand, loved it. He wasn’t very fussed about artistic reasons or making them have meanings.To date, none of his tattoos have an actual meaning. No, he liked that he could have little snakes and potted plants dotted across his body, which made him smile when he got undressed at the end of the day. 

“I’m thinking of getting another tattoo, you know?” the demon informed Aziraphale, who sat on the other side of a metal table, sipping his tea. They were in a sweet, little coffee shop around the corner from his bookstore and it was around nine O’clock in the morning.

“Where abouts?” Aziraphale asked, wondering to himself if there was anymore room. 

Unbeknownst to most, Crowley had many tattoos. The angel could still remember the day he excitedly bounded up to him, presenting him with a small wine glass on his leg from a man who had taken a rock, a steel needle, and some black ink, and pounded it into his thigh. This was only in the first few hundred years of their time on earth, so it had faded by then, although Crowley swears he can still feel the raised skin. Both of them still look back fondly on that memory, for that was the catalyst that started the demon’s decent into body modification. 

Aziraphale was taken on a tour of his body once. Crowley proudly showed off some terrible stick and pokes, and some beautiful inks that made the angel question his relationship choice. He seemed to remember a few favourites: a duck on his ankle, the Orion constellation (which he couldn’t help but brag about helping to create), at least 5 snakes across thighs and arms, and the word “fuck” in cursive, which he still laughs at.

“At the shop I always go to, down the road.” 

“I know that, dear, I meant on your body,” he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. 

“Oh right,” the demon stopped to consider “maybe on my chest, I’m kinda undecided. I know what I’m getting though.” 

Aziraphale hummed, urging him to continue. 

“Two pairs of wings; one white, one black,” Crowley has his arms stretched out as he explained his _vision_ , with a wide grin. 

It hadn’t taken him long to come up with. A quick google search of “couples tattoos” brought him to an image of a man and a woman with wings on their backs. He knew for a definite fact that Aziraphale would never even dream of soiling that rose tinted flesh of his, so he decided to leave out the part in which he would get both parts of a matching tattoo, because it sounded a bit pathetic. 

“Oh, how sweet!” Aziraphale smiled and clasped his hands together, a little bit too dramatically for Crowley’s liking. “I’m sure that will look beautiful, dear” 

“It’s not sweet,” the demon sulked, looking around the coffee shop to see if anyone had noticed his angel’s over reaction. He only grinned, again, and proceeded to slurp the rest of his tea. 

“Well, you’ll need to show me a design or something first. I want to see it before you get it done, just in case you’re stuck with something ugly for the next 100 years. I would hate you having a new thing to complain about,” Aziraphale smiled and dropped a few coins onto the table, the metal clanging against metal. 

A few days later and Crowley had not listened. Thankfully, they only required one session, so he could show them off as soon as possible and luckily the two sets of wings were beautifully done by the biker-looking man who worked there and the overall experience was pleasant. They had polite conversations about cars and Queen songs (and Queen songs about cars), and the pain wasn’t too overwhelming. 

Crowley had the wings of opposite pectorals which both looked stunning, and gave him an excuse to take his shirt off around Aziraphale. 

They reminded him of strange times. They reminded him of his first encounter with his angel, yet also brought back painful memories of his fall. So, it turned out, after all these years, he now had a tattoo that did have a meaning, who would have thought. 

Aziraphale himself could certainly not believe it as Crowley stood shirtless in the middle of his bookstore, calling his name as a few humans stared in utter confusion. 

“Maybe we should take this somewhere else?” the angel suggested, which did make the situation a more suspicious, as he dragged a shirtless man into a secluded area of his store. 

He had to admit, they were very nice. Crowley was lucky to get a good artist that maximised the detail of the delicate feathers, without making it look tacky. 

The white set were on his right pec, and one of the wings was outstretched. Aziraphale knew immediately what it was referencing: their first meeting in the garden, in the rain. A wave of nostalgia hit him and he felt himself smirk. 

“What do you think, angel?” Crowley was beaming too, exerting pride. 

Obviously, Aziraphale couldn’t touch them yet. The tattoos were angry, red and dulled under cling film, but he wanted nothing more than to glide the tips of his fingers over the new ink and touch Crowley chest, now bare of hair. Thinking about it, he could probably perform some kind of miracle that healed them, but the angel didn’t question it, because heaven knows he’s avoided miracles for the stupidest of reasons. 

“They’re wonderful, my darling,” Aziraphale said fondly, admiring his lovers breast. 

“They’re fucking sick,” Crowley near shouted, alerting the remaining customers not too far away. He was flexing like a moron, as if he was a high school boy trying to impress his girl crush. 

“I’ll bet you dinner you’ll hurt yourself in at least five minutes,” the angel mumbled with a smile, because even though he acted like a five year old, at the best of times, he was still his man. 

The tattoos symbolised something so deep and profound that really wasn’t expressed well by the way Crowley was running around shouting. It showed love and hate, good and evil, the highest and lowest points of his life. Those dark wings were less permanent than the ones attached to him. They will always look over him, reminding him that he has fallen.Now he was giving himself another reminder? 

Aziraphale thought it was a nice gesture though, and mentioned nothing, because he wasn’t even sure if Crowley thought it was anything more than a dumb couple’s tattoo. One thing was for sure, however. the angel was getting treated to dinner: 

“Ow fuck!” 

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fanfic for this fandom so don’t come @ me i’m not a writer 
> 
> also i don’t know shit about tattoos so if any of this is wrong pls don’t let me know i’m not really that bothered 🥰.


End file.
